The scorpion's trail is easy enough to follow, and leads back to an edge of the sand and stone earthen hill you just left. The entrance is a low overhang that looks so small, you wonder how a creature the size of the scorpion could ever have fit within. However, its tracks clearly emerge from within.

The space within the cave is very low, but wide, forcing Xanyon to enter on his knees. It does not go in far, but it is completely black within. The half-orc's keen eyes are the only thing that allow him to see in the lightless environs. The inside of the cave is devoid of life. The space where the scorpion rested is obvious, and so is the fact that two of the creatures would never have fit within this tiny space. The roof never grows any higher than about 3 1/2 feet, and the massive ceiling of earth above him makes Xanyon feel as though he might be a bug about to be crushed under a giant rock.

Animal bones, and others that are less identifiable litter the floor, though oddly, there is almost no smell to the place. Earth and dust are the only odours that reach Xanyon's nose.

Among the bones Xanyon is able to spot a few man made objects, and looking around the area where they are concentrated he finds the remains of their bearers. How many there were is difficult to discern, as the bodies were pulled apart as the beasty fed. Only dry bones remain, so while the thoughts of their death's are grim, there is no flesh remaining that might make the task of searching vile as well. At least two skulls, or portions thereof that could not have belonged to the same head, can be seen to Xanyon's orc eyes, leading him to conclude there were at least that many victims.

Xanyon's Search:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21

The clothing and armour the men wore was torn apart upon eating, but a few other items remain; two scimitars, one in an ornate scabbard, the other bare. Both appear in fine condition, insulated from rust by the extreme dry air. A light wooden shield sits to one side, a money purse, an onyx ring encircling a finger bone, and a brass tube all lay partially buried within the sand. A small leather satchel disintegrates when it is moved, but within are a pair of wrist manacles, a lock and key, a small brass and cat's eye compass, and a bottle of desiccated ink and a metal pen quill are freed as it does. Xanyon gathers these all up and makes his egress from the cave without trouble, rejoining the others outside.

As the team stumbles back into camp, both from the weariness they feel from their wounds, and from the weight of the food they carry, they are spotted by one of the two muscular mercenaries employed by the camp. Dullen, by the look of him. He gives a quick low whistle, and it is returned a moment later from somewhere inside the camp. He raises his spear to the group in a gesture of acknowledgement to show that he recognizes you.

When you come close enough to speak he gives another low whistle, this one of amazement, "Wow! Would you look at those legs! And what's all that crap you guys are carrying?" He raises his eyes suggestively at Sati indicating she is the true target of his comment. "Boss-lady wanted to be woken if you guys were back before dawn. Her guards should have her up, so you should head right over to her tent."

Did anyone wish to loot the pugwampi before we get to Almah? There's not much, a little bit of gold and coins, other random stuff. Tarin's going to take the Harrow cards to examine.

As the party moves through camp towards Almah's tent, Tarin retrieves the Harrow cards from the pugwampi's body, trying to examine them briefly in the low light before tucking them into his belt pouch.

When you come close enough to speak he gives another low whistle, this one of amazement, "Wow! Would you look at those legs! And what's all that crap you guys are carrying?" He raises his eyes suggestively at Sati indicating she is the true target of his comment. "Boss-lady wanted to be woken if you guys were back before dawn. Her guards should have her up, so you should head right over to her tent."

Zerekias follows the man's eyes toward Sati. Realizing what he's speaking of, he turns his attention back toward the guard, his eyes narrowed, and an even greater scowl upon his face. He moves up to the guard until he gets practically in his face. He stares him dead in the eye for several moments as if studying him; like a cheetah stalking its prey. A fool, nothing more. Beneficial for him. We shall see. He then immediately turns and heads toward Almah's tent without saying a word.

Brother Larvendi goes still as a statue, and watches warily for the guard's reaction to Zerekas's eyeballing, ready to help the gruff barbarian defend Sati's honour if necessary. He also watches to observe Sati's response to Zerekias's intercession.

"He's just had a bad day; foul luck seemed to dog our footsteps; first a cactus patch where we all ended-up looking like pin-cushions, and then, once we had ascertained the fate of the missing goat, and were heading back here, we were attacked by a giant scorpion."

He then smiles.

"Still, at least we managed to retrieve some decent rations," he says, patting the legs he is carrying.

Tarin relaxes once the danger of further trouble has passed, then murmurs in a low but clear voice: "There is some gold on this little creature's body, as well as assorted rubbish. Does anyone wish to claim some of it?"

If no one's particularly concerned about the small amount of pugwampi treasure, I'll pop it under a button on Tarin's profile called "party loot".

"Indeed Xanyon, let's go make our report." Muqaq will go to Almah's tent and ask to see her. Once inside he will relate what happened with the goat and pugwampi, as well as the scorpion. "What would you have us do now, m'lady?"

You approach Almah's tent without any trouble, seemingly expected by her personal guards. Two of them are present outside the large standing-tent, one standing ready with a long spear, and the other cradling a heavy crossbow on one knee. Both look around warily, but do not appear nervous, or as though they are expecting violence; rather, they look like what they are: vigilant professionals.

Inside Almah's tent the lady herself and her major domo, Garavel, sit waiting. The blue eyed merchant princess sits in a dressing robe, that while completely preserving her modesty, draws attention for the implied intimacy of the garment. Her pale skin, hair, and bright blue eyes are in opposition to her distinctly Katapeshi garb and the accoutrements of the tent, but her familiarity with them make them appear nonetheless natural on her. Garavel sits dressed and armed as always, and looks not a single trait different that he did when you last saw him during the day. In fact he looks as though he might not have moved from his chair since that exact meeting. Regardless, he shows not the slightest sign of fatigue, and appears no less ready for a duel or harsh negotiation than he has at any other time.

Almah asks for the team's report and sits quietly listening while Muqaq relates the events of the excursion. When he is done, she sits considering for a moment, exchanging some silent glances with Garavel.

"So not only are these Pugwampi real, but they are every bit the pestilence that my gnoll expert described. One of them sneaked into our camp, searching for food, it would seem, and by its very presence caused an unlikely accident that caused the death of my seer."

She sits for a moment in silence again, Garavel sitting still as a statue, but seeming to provide her with some comfort by his presence nonetheless.

"Then after this ridiculous series of accidents that left you injured, the herder's goat dead, the bad luck ended with the death of this minuscule monster? Muqaq al-Varisi, see to it that this creature's remains shown to all members of the camp. I hereby order them all killed on sight. We may be too exposed here..."

Garavel nods, "As you say, lady. If one was able to walk directly into camp and leave with livestock without having been seen? I wonder if their affect on luck affects seeing them as well? Guards always choosing the wrong direction to look, being distracted by random sounds at the perfect moment..."

Almah waves off his line of conjecture. "We need to have an advantageous position against the Gnolls living in Kelmarane. If we need to be so concerned about ourselves here, then this is not it." She turns back to Muqaq, "So, you were saying that after your comedy of errors hunting this... menace, you were set upon by a giant scorpion, not only defeated it, but intend to eat it by way of revenge?" She finishes this by way of a smile, coming close to a laugh. "Garavel, trusted servant, you seem to have chosen well by this group."

"I suppose this brings us to the matter of your employment. Garavel hired you to come and serve our cause. He mentioned as well that many of you seemed to have your own reasons for wanting Kelmarane freed, but that in my opinion is all the better, as your motivations and ours are aligned. You have proven yourselves, and I will retain you all for this mission. I offer the sum of 200 gp for each upon the successful liberation of the village of Kelmarane. For this sum, you agree to serve me and my house, to follow my orders, and the orders of those I appoint above you. Is there any objection to this? "

Standing towards the back, Zerekias looks to her through narrowed eyes, not quite sure what to make of her offer. 200g? I do not understand the point of the gold offer. I came here to rid these lands of gnolls. I would do this for nothing. Thinking of it no more, Zerekias doesn't object.

"I feel that this sum seems too little to retain the services of such an accomplished group. We have already risked our lives in solving this mystery for you. Perhaps you could be convinced to raise your offer?"

Almah regards each of the party members in turn, her face impassive and perhaps a touch quizzical as she regards Sati.

Finally she states, "Excellent. So now we know who appears to be your natural leader," she nods to Muqaq, "and who among you has the natural spirit to take initiative, and the daring to challenge authority and act on her convictions..." she bows slightly, though with a measure of genuine respect, towards Sati.

"She is quite right, of course. 200 is what I am paying the mercenaries, for guarding the camp, and conducting manual labour. You have indeed shown yourselves far more capable than them, and as a result, will be asked to take on far more challenging tasks; unless you desire to help shoveling animal chips of course?"

"Speaking of these tasks, I have one to set before you now. As I have been discussing with Garavel, our encampment here at the Sultan's Claw is obviously far too exposed, and we have been searching the maps and records for sign of a place from which we would be better prepared to embark into Kelemarane from a position of strength."

"About a mile from here lie the remains of an abandoned monastery, named for a saint with whom I am not familiar but the scholars seem to indicate was somehow attached to the Dawnflower. The Abby of St. Vardishal was abandoned when Kelemarane was overrun, but more recent sightings and scout reports indicate it is still standing, and would make an effective redoubt where we might be able to stage the next step in our reclamation of the village. As you have no doubt figured out by now, nothing abandoned remains unclaimed for long in this area, so while it appears the Gnolls have taken no interest in the structure, it is likely you will find something has."

"Your mission is this; you will find your way to the monastery and scout the remains. You will make contact with any residents, and if hostile, as though anything that lives in this desert might not be hostile, pacify the grounds and make it ready for us to claim as our base of operations. If populated by something not strictly hostile, you may attempt to negotiate their vacating the site in our favour, or allying with us to fight the Gnolls. If unsuccessful, you may return to report here if you feel a more aggressive strategy is not warranted. I think this last is unlikely, and I have every confidence that you will be successful."

"Upon consideration of your qualifications, I increase my offer of employment to 500 gp for each member of your party. You may thank your friend Sati for this, and her boldness. Muqaq? You will function as command for this mission, with all expected to follow your orders as though they were mine. You will take Sati as your second. Now, it is very late, and you are all likely quite tired. Please go and rest; tents have been prepared for you. When you awaken, make whatever preparations you require and then set forth. I will order Father Zastoran to see to it your wounds are mended and you are fit to serve. If there are no further questions, I will see you on the morrow."

Muqaq appears to be dumbfounded by the sudden leadership role thrust upon him. He stands slowly and nods to Almah, "Thank you my lady. I will try to make sure your trust is not misplaced. Though I would only lead those who will willingly follow me. What say you?" He asks turning towards the others in the tent, gauging their reactions.

Zerekias moves up to the woman, staring her dead in the eye with his typical scowled look, "I do not need your money. I do this for my people, not for you." Then turning his attention to Muqaq and Sati, "And I do not take orders from none, other than those of my people. If you have an idea that I deem is sound, then I shall follow. If not, then I shall not. And that goes for all." He then turns and looks back to Almah, "On the morrow then," he responds, giving a slight nod as he takes his leave.

"I don't understand this behavior. In Alkenstar if somebody refused to work with his shift mates he was moved. If he still refused he was fired. Maybe you could fire Zerekias, now that you're in charge?"

Brother Larvendi turns his hooded head to Muqaq. "A good captain leads by example, but often must earn the respect of his more... fractious crewmen." He turns to watch Zerekias march out of the tent. "Still, the barbarian's overblown sense of pride and independence is more likely to result in his injury than anyone else's," he muses.

Brother Larvendi turns back to Muqaq. "You will have no trouble from me, Naradan."

Elven:

Naradan is "fire man" in Sindarin, I hope no one minds me using Tolkien's Elvish :)

Almah looks quite taken aback by Zerekias' pronouncement, and she appears too stunned to talk for a few moments. She glances at Garavel, who gets to his feet; the is first time you've seen him move all day. However, his gait is easy and relaxed, and his dust coat falls conveniently, and casually open, leaving his hands free, and his sword pommel unencumbered.

Almah seems to find her tongue and speaks, "What is the meaning of this statement, barbarian? I brought you here to work for me, if you refuse to follow orders what possible reason would I have to allow you to remain? I will give you one chance to change you mind. If you fail to do so you will return to Solku, or be returned there! Make your decision wisely."

Zerekias stops in his tracks and turns around, "Because I'm here to rid these lands of the enemy of my people. Which so happen to be the same beasts that you want to rid yourself of. I would not even be here, nor would I care to, if it were not for that very reason. And as I've said, I take orders from none except from those of my people. And as I've also said, if you have an idea that I find sound, then I shall follow. Otherwise, I do as I see best." With that, Zerekias takes his leave, unconcerned with whatever else she may have to say.

After Zerekias leaves the tent, Muqaq turns to Almah. "Allow me to deal with him for now my lady? If the barbarian's obstinacy becomes a hindrance to the goals you have set for us, he can be removed then. In the meantime I believe his hatred of the gnolls and his physicality make him more of an asset than a threat."

Well done Muqaq, Tarin thinks to himself. A good first step to taking responsibility of your crew on your own shoulders. Brother Larvendi nods in acknowledgement and leaves the tent, if no further issues are raised.

Tarin then approaches any of the guards who are off duty but awake, as his stocks of liquor are depleted, and enquires politely if any would be for sale for a devotee of the drunken god.

Tarin's questions are politely, but completely, ignored. The guards up now are all on duty, and the rest sleep.

As Zerekias is nearing the tents set aside for him and his comrades, he hears footsteps approaching behind him, making no attempt to conceal themselves. Garavel walks calmly forward, with two of the professional bodyguards behind him.

He draws short of the barbarian with a frustrated look barely concealed on his face, "Almah gave you her one last chance, but as a warrior, allow me to offer one more. There will be no others."

"This is an endeavour long in planning, and one to which we are all placed at risk by attempting. Among your clans, if a warleader is assigned, all follow him, correct? If one does not, then he is tossed out or killed because he is a fool; am I right? If you refuse to follow the orders of this company, then you are not one of us, and must be tossed out."

"The Gnolls in Kelmarane most certainly outnumber us, and thusly surprise will be key to our chances of success. Therefore, no independent force, particularly one with knowledge of our plans here can be allowed to walk free from us. If a fool cannot be controlled, and acts of his own accord, he may tip his hand to the enemy of our presence, and of our intentions. If he makes a gift of himself to the enemy by his foolishness, then again he will tip his hand. Even the very brave will speak when put to the question. We cannot allow this."

"Your options are to agree to the terms, and whether taking your coin or not, you WILL agree to follow the lady Almah's orders. Second, you may leave. You will be escorted back to Solku and left there of your own accord. If you chose to return before the liberation of the town is complete, you will be treated as a traitor. Last, you can refuse to leave, thus labelling yourself one now. So. What will you choice be?"

Seif-al-Din listens impassively to Almah's announcements, although he brightens considerably when Sati negotiates a 150% increase in the party's retainer.

Hmmm... Having her around certainly seems like a good idea.

His interest is especially piqued when Almah mentions the Abbey of St Vardishal.

"I am perfectly willing to agree to those terms. Cleaning-out the Abbey would be an excellent way to begin the re-establishment of the Dawnflower's ecclesiastical presence in the region, after all, and the less Gnolls that there are in the area, the better."

Steering clear of the growing debacle concerning the prickly Zerekias, he prepares to go in search of healing, and a cooking fire.

Almah looks resigned, "Of course. Get your rest, if you can. I will need to see matters with the barbarian to their end. We cannot allow him to persist as he has indicated, and allowing his free reign bears far too many risks. I hope he chooses wisely. I've never had to kill a man under my own employ."

Muqaq bows at the waist, nods to the others and makes his way to a private corner of the camp. He kneels in prayer, facing towards the east. You have brought me through the many dangers of this day unharmed sweet lady. Now you reveal your purpose for me, to lead these others in the restoration of your sanctuary. I feel unworthy of the task you have laid before me, but trust that you will provide a way. Please grant me some small measure of your own patience, your own ability to see the good in others and forgive them. Let the calming light of your presence into Zerekias' heart that he might bow his proud head to circumstance. As always, I am your humble servant. It was your work that pulled me from the fire of damnation and set my feet on the path to righteousness. Burn away my inadequacies that I might be the perfect tool for your work. This and only this I ask of you.

Any who observe him see him kneeling perfectly still with his eyes closed for about an hour. Afterwards, he rises up and returns to his bedroll. Laying down, Muqaq falls quickly into an exhausted sleep.

"Fine. I understand. You are trapped. You have opened your mouth and made yourself look a fool, and now choose to keep it shut to avoid compounding the issue. Swallow you pride and show yourself at least half a man. Agree to the terms."

"If you persist in refusing, then a second choice awaits: give up your sword and you will be allowed to ride back to Solku; make me take it and you will ride tied to that camel; draw it against me, and its last task will be to mark your grave."

Bowing to Almah, Seif-al-Din follows Muqaq out of the tent, and goes in search of a cooking fire.

By way of explanation, he says:

"Whilst we have been granted permission to seek aid from Father Zastoran to fix our wounds, I would feel guilty if we could not offer him something in return; hopefully a nice dish of roast scorpion will be acceptable."